Nothing But Evil
by UnofficiallyClove
Summary: Draco Malfoy appears to be evil, but does he really want to be? Not sure if I'm going to continue or not, so review and tell me if I should!


"You are dismissed."

As soon as those three words were hissed from the Dark Lord's mouth I stood up eagerly, his chair screeching back on the marble floors and attracting a few eyes in my direction. But I just glared at each of them and stalked off to the other room.

When I got into the kitchen I rested my elbows on the granite counter tops, putting my face in my hands and taking deep breaths. I don't want to do this. I don't think I _can_ do this.

I hear the door swing open and the click of high heels walking towards me. "Draco." My mother snaps at me. I lift my face from my hands partially to look at her. "That was very rude. Do you want to embarrass your father and me?"

"He said we were dismissed." I remind her flatly.

"Well you didn't have to _run_ out of there." She's glaring at me sternly.

I feel strangely close to tears. No one in my family would understand; they're all Death Eaters themselves—either that or they're dead—, and very comfortable with the position. I, however, am not. But that doesn't matter, considering no one cares about my opinion. Nor do I care to tell them. If I told my parents about my apprehension, or my regrets…well, if I weren't my mother's only pride and joy I would most likely be disowned, and my father would do it in a heartbeat.

Just then another figure comes through the door. Unhappily I notice it's one of my least favorite people in the world. I usually try to avoid her as best I can, though it's almost impossible to evade Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Draco, honey." She purrs with a sinister smile on her face. I straighten up but say nothing as she circles slowly to the other side of me. Everything is a show with her. "Something seems to be bothering you, dear. Would you like to tell Auntie Bella about it?" She's uncomfortably close, as she always is during a conversation—it seems she likes to make everyone feel uncomfortable. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mother stiffen up a bit. Although she'd never admit it, I know at least a part of my mother is terrified of her sister.

I grind my teeth together before answering quietly, "No."

"No?" she repeats, sounding amused. Then she sighs. "It's a shame, Draco, that you feel you can't confide in me. We a_re_ family, you know. We love each other." Then the sinister smile comes back. It's extremely apparent that she's being sarcastic.

"You are not my family. And I will never love you." I sneer at her.

Rage crosses my aunt's face and I instantly feel regret for letting that slip. No more than a second later her bony hand is slapping me hard across the face. "You have a lot of nerve, boy." She tells me, glaring. "If you weren't so important to the Dark Lord, and if we weren't…no, never mind if we were related or not. You would be dead right now, Draco Malfoy."

"Bellatrix." My mother warns timidly.

"Narcissa, teach your boy some manners." She spits towards my mother. Then she shoulders past me, making me stumble slightly, and she stomps back out the door.

My mother sighs while I remain still. "Draco—"

"I hate her." I interrupt, finally looking at my mother. "I hate her so much."

"Draco!" Mother scolds.

"Oh, don't act like you don't hate her, too!" I snarl at her. "I see it. I can see it in your face. You're terrified of her, you wish she wasn't around. I know, because I wish it, too!"

"You stop it right now!" She steps closer to me, pointing a finger in myself. Her voice is shaking slightly. "Draco, I never want to hear you say such things ever again. I don't care if she's wicked or evil or what she's done, she is still my sister and your aunt and you will not say those things about her!"

"That's not why you care." I accuse her, shaking my head slightly. "You're afraid she'll hear. That's all. You're afraid she'll hear and hurt you."

"Draco, please!" My mother looks close to tears herself now. "Enough of this! Go to your room, I don't want to see you right now, and I don't want you disturbing our guests!"

"Guests." I scoff as I turn away and begin to make my way up the staircase. By guests, she means the rest of the Death Eaters that so generously deemed our house as their meeting point. The Malfoy Manor is always kept spotless because of it; we never know for sure when a meeting will be called at random.

When I get to my room I slam the door behind me. Childish, I know, but I can't help it. Now I'm frustrated. I spend a few minutes pacing angrily along the hardwood floors of my room before deciding that my dark room is making me feel claustrophobic. I get my wand out of my pocket and close my eyes, apparating to the very first place I could think of.

I arrive in Crabbe's dimly lit room with a _pop_.

"Shit!" Crabbe jumps backwards, backing into a wall. "Damn it, man, why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

I sigh and glare at his pudgy face, suddenly wishing I'd put more thought into where exactly I was apparating to. "Didn't know I was coming here myself, mate." I tell him. Crabbe stands up again, stepping away from his wall and licking some sort of sugary substance off of his fingers. While Goyle had slimmed down a bit as we got older, Crabbe could never seem to ditch his fatty habits.

"Well…why are you here?" he asks me, sitting on the edge of his bed and opening the drawer to his nightstand, pulling out a package of cauldron cakes and stuffing one in his mouth.

"Like I said, I don't know. I'm just…extremely mad." I sigh and begin pacing again, rolling up my sleeves. "Merlin, don't you have air conditioning in this hell hole?"

Crabbe ignores my comment about the heat. "How come?"

I shake my head. "You wouldn't understand." I stop pacing at his nightstand and slam my fists down onto it, shaking the lamp. I stand there, breathing heavily for a moment and look at Crabbe. He nervously stuffs another cauldron cake into his mouth, but I slap it out of his hand. "Stop eating!" I yell at him. "Bloody hell, I don't think I've ever seen you without a damn piece of food in your hand!"

Crabbe frowns and looks are the ground. "What do you want, Draco?"

I stand up straight again and think of how to answer that question, since I don't know the answer right now. I don't know what I want here, or anywhere for that matter. There must be some reason I've arrived here of all places, though. My eyes drift back to Crabbe and I notice that he's staring at my mark. I roll down my sleeves self-consciously. Although Crabbe and Goyle were at first absolutely awestruck by my being a Death Eater, I feel like there's a little more tension now a days. Maybe it's the rumor I killed old Dumbledore, even though it wasn't me. Or maybe they've just heard of the things I do on a daily basis—or things I'm forced to do.

Then all of a sudden I'm angry again. Not necessarily at Crabbe, but he's the only one to blame. I thought wherever I ended up would make me feel better, not irritated.

Crabbe sighs in response to my silence. "Look, you should probably go. I go back to school tomorrow, and my mum—"

"Vincent? Vinny! We're home!" A voice calls from downstairs, followed by a door closing.

"My mum's home." Crabbe finishes glumly. "I'm not sure if she'd like it much that you're here now…."

I frown at him. "I understand. I guess you don't want to help me, then."

"Wait—!"

I apparate before he can say more. I had no intention of him helping me, of course—the blithering idiot served well enough for elementary school, but if I requested his help now he'd probably get me killed. Not to mention laughed at.

I find myself in Diagon Alley—unfortunately, somewhere I actually need to be. The thought of being so close to doing what I've been assigned makes me nervous, and that causes me to become even more furious. I may as well take the fury out on my victim, then; _He_ always likes if they're returned battered. And hopefully if I do well with this task, I'll be able to return to the sidelines and be ignored by him again. If I'm lucky.

Making my way through the darkened streets, I find Mr. Olivander's wand shop easily. The old wooden door has a crooked sign that reads "CLOSED" on the front. In the front window, several new wands stand proudly on display, though they're hard to see in the darkness.

I take a deep breath and then wave my wand over the rusty knob of the door, muttering the spell and hearing chains sliding on the other side of the door. When I finish, the door creaks open a tad on its own, and I push it open the rest of the way. I step across the threshold and onto the old wood floors. I make my way to the counter, remembering to close the door quietly behind me.

"Lumos." I whisper, my wand illuminating. I slide over the counter since I can't find another way of entering, and then I begin searching to my right since I remember vaguely someone gesturing in that direction as his bedroom. Sure enough, I come to a long, narrow staircase. At the top I find a door with light flooding under the crack. I count to three inside my head and then kick the door open, wand at the ready.

Mr. Olivander's apartment is a tiny, one-room, sparsely furnished place. To my right is a closet-sized bathroom with a toilet and small shower, and inside of the room is nothing but a bed in the center of the room, a lamp on a table beside it, and an old chair by the window in which Mr. Olivander sits, looking absolutely terrified. But then his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Mister Malfoy?" he asks timidly. "I-I-I'm sorry, but the store is closed and I need to ask you to le—"

"Shut up, old man." I demand him, walking further into the room. It has a strange odor to it that I can't quite place. "Now, you can either come with me calmly, or you can make it a struggle." I'm now pointing my wand right in his wrinkled face. "Choose." I demand him through my teeth.

He inhales deeply and leans towards the open window where a few people still walk below. I know immediately what he's going to do, but I can't seem to stop him quick enough. He lets out a spine-chillingly loud scream. I look out the window and see two women look up.

"Mr. Olivander?" one calls up worriedly. "Are you alright?"

I point my wand to his throat. "Tell them you're fine." I whisper to him. When he says nothing, I press my wand harder to his neck. "Tell them!" When he doesn't comply after two seconds, I get fed up. "Crucio!"

Mr. Olivander lets out another scream, this one far worse and more chilling than the last. He falls out of the chair, clutching his stomach with one hand and holding himself up with the other. I don't let it last too long, though, for fear one of them will try to break in. I retract the spell and kick the man in the ribs. "Tell them!" I repeat as another concerned call comes up from the street.

He replies to me, but it takes him a few tries before he can make any sound come out. "Okay." He pulls himself back onto the chair and looks out the window.

"Smile." I demand him. "If you dare give them any hints, I swear I will kill you." I put my wand to the nape of his neck as he musters a smile at the woman below. "You better make it believable." I warn him.

"Oh, I'm alright…sorry for disturbing you. I had just…stumbled. I cut myself on a nail, that's all."

"Oh," the woman says, not sounding one hundred percent convinced. "Do you need any help?"

I dig the tip deeper into his neck. "No! No, I'm…I'm fine."

"Okay." The woman says skeptically. "You have a good night now, Mr. Olivander."

"And the same to you two." He answers. When I see the two of them walk away I grip the collar of his shirt and pull him to a standing position.

"W-what do you want?" he whispers fearfully.

"I don't want anything." I tell him, an evil smile spreading across my face. "You-Know-Who does." His eyes widen and a second later we've arrived in the living room of Malfoy Manor. I peer at his face, observing my work. Besides looking haggard, it doesn't seem I've done anything to him. That wouldn't go too well. I wrinkle my nose as if staring at a blank canvas, deciding what to paint. "Sorry." I say insincerely before bringing my fist back and punching him hard in the nose. I hear a crack and blood pours from it. But not enough blood, it won't be enough to please anyone.

I narrow my eyes, remembering last year. It seems so much longer than a year ago; so much has happened. Yet I remember it clearly, and this brings on a fresh wave of hate for Harry Potter. I've never used the spell myself, and I've been curious. Might as well do it now.

I step back a few feet and point my wand at him. "Sectumsempra!" I whisper, and then dashes of red appear all over the man's clothes, oozing blood. He falls to the floor, gasping and moaning. I watch him for a full minute, a feeling of satisfaction settling in me. When he's rolling in his own puddle of blood I withdraw the curse and snap my fingers. One of our house elves, Krouse, pops up.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" he croaks.

"Clean up this mess." I tell him, gesturing towards the puddle of blood on the floor. "And whatever follows." I add as I notice his hair is dripping the crimson liquid. As I said before, mother likes a clean house.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy."

I half drag Mr. Olivander all the way to the meeting room, which is still buzzing with conversation. I kick the swinging door open since both my hands are occupied. At once the conversation is quiet and all eyes are on me. I notice that everyone is still here but the Dark Lord himself. I shove Mr. Olivander forward, throwing him onto the table. The people sitting in that spot flinch back slightly.

I set a glare on my face, determined to look intimidating. "There." I spit. Mr. Olivander groans quietly on the table, looking only on the brink of consciousness.

My father, who sits only two seats away on the right, stands up at the same time as Bellatrix, who is seated the closest to the head chair, which I stand behind. Father peers over the body for a moment before looking back to me. "Well done, Draco. The Dark Lord will be pleased."

"Should we call him?" Someone questions.

Before anyone answers, I roll up my sleeve and touch my mark. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible. As the snake on my arm begins to move I look up at Bellatrix and smirk at the expression on her face. She looks furious; I could tell she was expecting me to back down, or to bring him in all unharmed and in one piece. And then the job would be handed unto her, resulting in my punishment and her reward. But I've foiled her. And I love the feeling.

There's a loud crack and then Voldemort is standing just to the right of me, looking more or less pleased. He looks around, to see who's summoned him, I assume, and his eyes land on me last. A grin spreads across his face and I try not to shiver. "Ah, Draco, my boy." He looks back to the bloody Mr. Olivander on the table. "You have done well." The smirk on my face disappears as he walks closer to me. I stand as stiff as a board as he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Extremely well," he muses, looking at the body. And then he smiles again, opening his arms to give me a congratulatory hug, which I once again stand still through. He then steps forward, puts a hand on the body, and a second later the two of them are gone.

Everyone stands there quietly, just waiting for someone to speak. With one last glare around the room I turn around and push through the door, heading up to my room once again.

But when I get there and close the door behind me, the powerful feeling that the adrenaline had brought along was wearing off, and I suddenly felt exhausted—and extremely guilty. I lean against the door, a headache overcoming me as I slowly slide to the floor, a horrified expression on my face as images flash before my eyes. My eleven year-old self coming into Mr. Olivander's shop and he giving me my wand, the one I hold in my hand to this day. He being nothing but kind to me all these years while I was a jerk to him—as I am to everyone. I thought of his family. But then I shake the thoughts away, convincing myself I did the right thing.

But still, I feel…almost dirty could describe it, but maybe that's just the blood on my clothes and hands. I feel evil. Nothing but evil. But it doesn't matter. There's no turning back now; I've already chosen where my loyalties lie.

**Hi. :) So I'm in love with Draco Malfoy and decided to write a story about him. I think he's really interesting, because he can never tell if he's good or evil…I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this story, so if you want me to then tell me, along with any ideas you might have because I have no plot whatsoever. Thanks, please review! :D**


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